CopyCat (5 page)

“It needs antibiotic cream and then to be rebandaged. Have you had your shower yet?”

“No, Connor, you woke me up.”

“I guess that means no breakfast either. Can I help you? I can get you some cereal or something.”

“I don’t have any milk, but there are some packages of muffins in there. I could have one of those with my coffee.”

“Oh…uh…coffee. I’m not too good with coffee.”

“You
have
to have coffee with breakfast, Connor To—I mean, Connor. Just make me some instant.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding and smiling a little. “I guess I can do instant. Be right back.”

He wasn’t
right
back, but it didn’t take him too long, and it was all perfect until he picked up
my
cup and took a sip.

I stopped in mid-chew. “That’s my cup, Connor. You can’t drink from it—there are more in the cabinet, but that’s only for me.”

He tilted his head and looked at me like I was crazy. I’d seen that look plenty of times before and I didn’t like it coming from him. I decided I must have been a little too abrupt. “It’s just that it’s my special cup, you see. You can take a sip from it too, if you like.” I plucked it from his hands, took a sip of my own, and smiled at him over the rim. “Just not too many.”

He smiled back at me like he thought I was teasing, but I wasn’t. He picked up the other cup, though, and drank from it from then on. After we’d both finished our coffee, he stood up. “Okay then, I’ll help you upstairs. Before we go, do you have a plastic bag? This foot doesn’t need to get wet for a few days.”

I pointed toward the kitchen. “Under the sink. How do you know so much about bandages?”

He looked down at me, already up on his feet and on his way to the kitchen. “I was a medic in the Army. Iraq.” He went to the kitchen and came back in a few seconds with the bag. He stuck my bandage back on and then put the bag over it, ripping it and tying it off around my ankle. “Okay, let’s get you upstairs.”

He gathered me up again close to him, and I kind of wanted to just melt into him. He smelled really good, like aftershave and coffee and maybe spearmint gum. Anyway, it was nice, and I turned and put an arm around his neck, clinging to him a little harder than I really needed to going up the stairs. I almost made him fall a couple of times, though, so finally, about halfway up, he picked me up off my feet, sort of tucking me under his arm like a big football.

He carried me the rest of the way up, putting me down only when we reached the top. I swayed against him a little bit on purpose, so he’d keep his arm around me, and we made our way to the bathroom. He let me lean against the sink while he adjusted the shower spray and turned back to me. “Take off the brace.”

I pulled it off and handed it over.

“Okay, inside with you.”

It was his turn to lean against the sink and watch as I slid down my underwear, got in and leaned against the wall of the shower stall to help maintain my balance. I took some liquid soap in my hand and slowly worked it into a lather over my cock, looking directly at Connor Todd. He wet his lips and frowned, turning his head, but I kept rubbing up and down my shaft, knowing he’d look back sooner or later and sure enough, he did.

With a muttered call to Jesus again, he began tearing off his clothes and soon he was naked and climbing in beside me. I pressed my body against his, feeling him warm and solid against me. He turned me so his cock pressed into my ass, and I shivered with anticipation. He pulled me close so that I rested the back of my head on his shoulder and pushed myself back against him, then held me up off the floor effortlessly with one hand. With the other he found a bottle of conditioner on the tile shelf in the tub, holding it out to me so I could spread some on his fingers.

He rubbed the fingers against my hole and gently put one finger inside me. I knew he was trying not to hurt me, but it was getting harder and harder not to just back myself onto his dick. I wanted him so badly. Carefully stretching me, he put in another finger. I gasped and cried out at the sweet invasion as the tight ring of my muscles clenched, then relaxed and opened wider. His free hand slid along the tiles in front of me, trying to get a purchase. I had one hand braced on the tiles too, but I was becoming too excited to keep still. He pushed his fingers in deeper, changing his angle, and I jerked upright as he found my prostate. I put back my head and made a low moaning sound and came so hard I thought I just might be having a seizure.

When I came back to myself, I realized his dick was hard as steel, and I reached around him to stroke his shaft. He lowered his head to kiss the side of my face. I turned and captured his lips with mine—so sweet and soft. I could have stood there kissing him forever, with his hard dick rubbing against my crease. He turned me in his arms then and I wrapped both legs around his waist so he could thrust up inside me. He shook his head—“No condom,” he said softly, so I captured his dick with my hand and pulled it up between us. Caught between our bodies, and rubbing sensuously against me, his cock had the friction he needed. He began making a low, grunting sound that made me crazy, and I wanted to see his face as he came.

I ground myself against his cock, then took it in my hand, circling the head with my fingers and squeezing, and then he was coming, so hard he was trembling all over and tears ran out of his eyes. I kissed them away and held him through it. When it was over, I laid my head on his shoulder, tightening my arms around him. He leaned back against the tile wall, still holding me against him and trying to catch his breath.

After what seemed like a long, long time, he stepped out of the tub, with me still clinging to him like a Goodwill suit, but I couldn’t seem to let him go. He sat me down on the sink top and kissed the top of my head before reaching for a towel to dry us both off. He worked quietly and methodically and soon he was lifting up my foot and taking off the bag. I showed him the little bag of supplies the nurse had given me to take home—swabs, gauze, band aids and little packs of antibiotic ointment filled it. He went to work and soon had my foot swabbed clean with peroxide from the medicine chest. Then he applied ointment and a gauze bandage and taped it all up. Next he helped me put the brace back on my wrist, and helped me down from the sink top.

We walked back to the bedroom, and he sat me on the side of the bed and pulled out a pair of underpants, some jeans and a shirt from the drawer before tossing them down beside me. I was enjoying the view of his ass as he found the things in my drawer. He looked up and caught me, smiling at me almost unwillingly.

“I can’t figure you out, Gavin,” he said, shaking his head. He went back to the bathroom and came back with his clothes on again. He had his hands shoved down in his pockets, and he looked a little unhappy. I knew he was already regretting what we’d done. I wondered if it was because I was the subject of his investigation or if it was because he thought I was a thief. Or maybe both.

“I need to go to the grocery store to buy a few things. Could you possibly drive me?” I asked. “I mean, I know you’ve done a lot already, but I can pay for your gas.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to pay for my gas. It’s not that.” He left the bedroom and then walked back in again. When he spoke this time, he seemed really emphatic. “I’ve let this thing get out of hand. I take full responsibility, but what happened just now was a mistake. I should
never
…” He stopped and ran a hand through his short hair before turning and leaving the room.

I thought he was going back downstairs, but he popped back in again. He stood in the door and pointed his finger at me. “We’re
not
friends, Gavin, no matter what just happened here. I’m being paid to investigate for the insurance company and that’s what I’m going to do, understand?”

I nodded, wondering if he was trying to convince me or himself. He frowned at me. “And don’t think I’ll take it easy on you or look the other way, because I won’t! If I find out you know where those missing paintings are, I’ll come down on you so hard you won’t know what hit you. You got that?”

“Yes, Connor Todd. I got it. It’s fine—you don’t have to take me to get my groceries.”

“Goddamn it, stop calling me ‘Connor Todd’ like some kind of…” He slammed his fist against the door and glared at me. “And it has nothing to do with the fucking groceries!”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sure what I was sorry for, but I thought a blanket apology might help.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at me some more. “Damn it. Just put some shoes on and I’ll take you, but you have to answer some questions for me when we get back.
And don’t think I’m letting you out of it!
”

He really needed to work on his post-coital skills. “Okay,” I said and got up to hobble over to the closet and find an old pair of sneakers. They fit over the bandage on my bad foot pretty well, and by not tying my shoe, it wasn’t too painful. I’d have liked to have gone barefoot, but I could only imagine how that would go over.

I straightened up and said, “I’m ready,” and he followed me as I hopped and hobbled down the stairs. I liked the way we’d come up them much better, but he seemed to be regretting all that earlier closeness, so I didn’t push it.

He barely spoke to me all the way to the store, and once we got there, he told me to use the wheelchair they had there for handicapped people while he waited outside. He trailed along behind me as I made it inside and found one. The wheelchair had a little basket on the front, so it was fine. He cleared his throat as I looked up at him from the chair.

“So, okay, I’ll go outside and wait for you.” I nodded and wheeled around to go through the automatic doors.

I got the rat traps first and then rolled around finding the milk and cereal and bread and cookies. A few frozen pizzas and some colas—all the necessary supplies the little basket would hold. I went through the self-service line to save time and when I got finished bagging and paying for it, I rolled the chair outside and found Connor leaning against his car, waiting for me. His frown was gone, so he seemed to be in a much better mood. Maybe the fresh air had done him some good.

He saw me and came over to help me in the car before he grabbed my bags. As he did, the bottom came out of one of the bags that I guess I’d stuffed too full, and the rat traps fell out on the pavement. He picked them up and raised an eyebrow at me.

“You have rats?”

“Yes. Well, technically, they’re mice, but same difference.”

He shook his head. “Not really. If you catch a mouse in one of these you’ll smash him flat.”

I shrugged. “That would be okay.”

He came around to get behind the wheel, and quirked up one corner of his mouth at me. “Bloodthirsty, aren’t you? What did a poor little mouse ever do to you?”

“Rodents are filthy creatures. They carry diseases like leptospirosis, typhus, tularemia, meningitis and even bubonic plague. And you can’t keep them out, you know. If they want to get in, they’ll come. They can squeeze their bodies through holes no bigger than a quarter. They like to use the inside of your pipes too, as small as an inch and a half in diameter, and since rats also happen to be champion swimmers, you combine these two things and you have an animal that can and does enter your house through your toilet.” I turned toward Connor Todd and saw that he was listening with his eyebrows raised though he kept looking straight ahead. “It’s true. I read it online.”

“Okay,” Connor Todd said, but in a long, drawn-out way. “Seems like you might have made a little study of this.”

I lifted one shoulder. “I like to do research, and I really hate rodents. When I was at the Murphy Home they climbed in my bed and bit me.”

He turned to look at me then. “
What
? Bit you? Gavin, mice don’t bite people.”

“These were rats—the big ones, and they bite people all the time. They like our blood.”

“Okay, you’re just making that up.”

“No, not at all.” I quoted an article I’d read about it. “‘
A twenty-two-year study of urban rat bites shows that the most common time to be bitten by a rat is between midnight and eight a.m., while sleeping in your own bed.’
That’s from the internet too. They
love
the taste of human blood. In the Murphy Home, I was lucky because I could fight them off at night. The kid in the bed next to me had really severe cerebral palsy. They bit him a lot.”

Connor Todd turned a horrified face toward me. “What kind of fucking concentration camp in hell is this Murphy Home?”

I smiled at his expression. “You sound like my grandfather. That’s what he said when he finally came for me. He even called the state to report them and got the director in a lot of trouble.”

“Good for him.”

“See, he was in the Merchant Marines when my parents died, so by the time he got everything arranged and got back to port to come for me, it was almost a month. Twenty-seven days, to be exact.”

“Why the fuck were you in a place like that anyway? Don’t they usually put kids in foster homes in situations like that?”

“Normally, I guess. But then I wasn’t normal.” I heard his sharp intake of breath and smiled again. “If you think I’m weird now, you should have seen me back then. I was a pretty strange kid.”

“Gavin, I don’t think you’re weird.”

“Yes, you do, but it’s okay. I’m not like you and the other neurotypicals.”

“The what?”

“Neurotypicals. It’s the word some people use to describe people like you—you know, the rest of the world, pretty much. People who understand a lot of context. I really didn’t when I was little. Then, too, my parents had just died, and I was really sad all the time, and I hadn’t learned much social interaction then. So nobody wanted me to stay once I got to the foster homes. They thought I was too different, and they sent me to the Murphy Home for the Handicapped.”

I saw Connor tighten his hands on the steering wheel so hard his knuckles got white, but he didn’t ask any more questions. We’d reached my house by this time, so Connor told me to go inside and settle on the couch in the living room while he brought in the groceries. Just as I got to the top of the porch steps, though, a silver SUV pulled up beside Connor’s car and Andrea Jones got out. She hurried over to me on the porch. “What happened, Gavin? Are you okay?” She glared suspiciously over at Connor. “And who is this?”